


i will awaken the dawn

by iskra (kiira)



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 07:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2540156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiira/pseuds/iskra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>you want to collapse into her so badly, but the need to confess everything is suddenly so great that you pull away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i will awaken the dawn

You keep your secrets to yourself, safe and hidden, for secrets are weaknesses and weaknesses kill. It’s the one lesson that Maman taught you that you still hold as truth, for Maman has lived for thousands of years, and you have lived with her for centuries and you still do not know her name.

But Laura – tiny, unassuming _Laura_ – has taken your treasures and scattered them, for you can only wake screaming from nightmares so many nights in a row before your roommate takes your still trembling hands and mumbles comfort into your hair.

And it takes weeks of her warm hands on yours before you begin to speak to her, and it’s only fragments of horror. You whisper fears to her bowed head and she nods and makes tiny noises of pity

 _Darkness_ and she nods, and mumbles something that sounds like, _I know_. She could never, never understand the terror of the coffin, and you pray to whatever God is listening to you that she never will. _Endless darkness, and I’m afraid it will never end._ Her fingers in your hair still, and you swear she presses a kiss on the back of your neck as she curls herself around you and strokes your hair until you fall back asleep.

When you wake up the next morning, she’s gone and when she comes back, she makes no mention of your nighttime confession.

You are endlessly grateful.

But the next night, you find her in your bed again, and your breathing slows as she tells you stories from her childhood, something about a missing dog and flyers put up everywhere and learning that her neighbor had thought that the dog was a stray and had kept it in her garage for five days. Silly, mundane things and she pretends not to notice the tears on your cheeks or the tremble in your voice as you tell her _cold_ , and her face flickers into confusion for a second, and speak to the wall behind her head, tell her about the bone-numbing chill of lying helpless under the earth, and your voice breaks off before you can finish.

Laura – beautiful, wonderful Laura – kisses you softly, and continues her story about lost dogs and children.

When the sun rises, Laura’s breathing is slow and even on your neck and she kisses you again and mumbles, “Go back to sleep,” and you can’t help but smile.

This time, Laura doesn’t mention your tears, but she keeps the soft warmth of kisses. You’re not sure if you’re dating, but Laura greets you with a kiss, and you groan and complain about sappy modern college girls, and she calls you grandma. You stick your tongue out at her, something you haven’t done since you were a real girl, with real sisters and a real heart.

You have a half-hope the joy of Laura will keep the nightmares back, but three weeks from the two a.m. kisses, you wake with a broken, ragged gasp in your throat, and Laura starts awake as well.

“You okay?” She whispers, her voice loud in the empty room and you shake your head.

You’re not okay. You dream of blood and cannons and you can’t hear loud noises without feeling the splintered top of a coffin and can’t see white dresses without remembering how her body looked, splintered and twisted as Maman slit her throat and soaked your prison in her blood.

You’re _not_ okay.

Laura brushes a kiss onto your collarbone, and you’re not sure what to say to her except, _Soldiers._ And she takes one of your hands and kisses the palm, and then the fingers and you want to collapse into her so badly, but the need to confess everything is suddenly so great that you pull away.

She looks hurt, until you whisper _Fire, heights, Requiem by Berlioz._ Some understanding comes to her, and she curls her fingers with yours as you continue your litany.

_Being held down_  
_Sudden heat ___  
_Cannon-fire __  
_the Eiffel Tower ____

Your voice gets quieter and quieter, and you’re not sure if she can even hear you anymore, or if she’s just nodding because she feels a need to. _Being forgotten_ , you whisper above her lips, _Comfort_ is breathed into her mouth, and _Love_ fills her lungs.

She kisses you and gently touches the scar above your heart and her hands feel like a prayer.


End file.
